Isaac looks at her steadily, his eyelids narrowed against the stream of cigarette smoke escaping his lips. “I don’t treat anyone like shit now.”

Daisy doesn’t look away and they continue to stare at each other for one thump of my heart, two, three, four. The room is silent and everyone is still, but there’s a frisson in the air, an invisible cord connecting Isaac and Daisy.

“How about you, Daisy?” Isaac’s whispered question breaks the strained silence, and everyone shifts position. “What baggage are you carrying that’s weighing you down?”

Daisy’s cheeks pale and a fine sweat beads across her top lip.

“I …” The word escapes from her lips then she closes them again. She glances around the room as though she’s just woken up and realised where she is. She catches Al’s eye and smiles. Al is up on her haunches, her upper body twisted towards the door as though she’s seconds from running out of the room. “I think someone else should go first.” Daisy looks at me, and laughs. “Emma?”

I shake my head. Any secrets I have are staying hidden.

The rest of the group stay silent. The two Swedish girls are sitting so closely together they look like they’re conjoined at the arm. Frank, the older man, is staring out of the window, his eyes unblinking.

“I’ll go first,” Leanne offers. She’s sitting cross-legged now, her sarong puddling on the floor around her.

“Thank you, Leanne.” Isaac nods at her and she lights up like a beacon.

“The last time I saw my mum,” Leanne says, not taking her eyes off Isaac, “she told me that God must hate her. When I asked her what she meant, she said, ‘Well, the abortion didn’t work and I got saddled with you, didn’t I?’”

One of the blonde Swedish girls gasps and I close my eyes. The room sways and I feel sick. I can’t listen to Leanne talk about abortions, not after what happened to me.

Something twitches on my knee and I fight to stay calm. It’s just Daisy’s hand. I focus on it, on the warmth of my skin under her palm, and imagine the sound of her voice.

You are on a beautiful beach in the Caribbean, lying on a towel on the warm sand. Dig your fingers and toes into the sand, Emma. Feel how warm they are. Feel the sun on your face.